


Deadly Sins

by vtn



Category: Green Day, The Network (Band)
Genre: Costumes, F/M, Femdom, Friends With Benefits, Halloween, Maledom, Mistaken Identity, Pegging, Role Reversal, S&M, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-03
Updated: 2006-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-11 12:49:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtn/pseuds/vtn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Halloween, not everything is as it seems.  So when Adrienne thinks it's Billie Joe visiting her in their favorite hangout, she's in for a surprise.  Of course, Adrienne has some surprises of her own up her sleeve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deadly Sins

**Author's Note:**

> This is from an AU I wrote in a lot when I was in Green Day/The Network fandom, where Green Day and a bunch of their friends live in a punk house in Oakland called The Basement, Billie/Mike/Tré are in a polyamorous relationship, and I guess at the time this story takes place Billie and Adrienne have amicably split up to allow for Billie to be with his boyfriends.
> 
> Because I was asked about it at the time: as far as I know, Billie Joe doesn't really have a fake ID under the name "Wilhelm Fink". I made that up. Seemed as plausible an origin as any.
> 
> Also apparently I wrote about Billie's "rock collection" here too, ahahaha; as further explained in [Just Call Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/478601) it's actually his box of sex toys, labeled "rock collection" to look innocuous.

Adie was standing on a chair, hanging a plastic ghost from the ceiling when she saw the swish of a red devil tail in the closet. At first she thought there must have been a mirror in the closet, since she was wearing a devil tail and horns—her Halloween costume—and she thought nothing of it. She stepped down from the chair to admire her handiwork, and then glanced around at the rest of the Basement, deciding it was suitably spooky. 

For once, it was actually empty except for her; the guys had all left because a friend of theirs was holding a B-horror-movie marathon, and the Basement guys were complete frat boys when it came to B-horror-movies. So Adie, in a stroke of genius, had decided to turn the apartment into a haunted house to surprise the boys when they got back. The boys had told her that she was a brave woman for hanging around one of the worst parts of town all alone and in a devil costume to boot, but she wasn’t all that worried. Half of the street punks and hobos were people she knew on a first-name basis, and besides, everyone knew you didn’t mess with Adie Nesser.

But Oakland was an unpredictable place, and Adie could never have predicted what happened that day.

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a flash of red again. No—she _definitely_ saw it and now that she thought of it, why would there be a mirror in the closet? Tré slept in there; there wouldn’t be any room for a mirror or much of anything else. Just to be sure, she made like she was going to walk into the kitchen to get a drink, something she’d done once or twice already.  As she was stepping past the threshold she saw a head peer around the closet door. She whipped back around.

“Who’s there?” 

There was no answer, and she gingerly stepped over to the closet, opening the door. In the beam of light that seeped in, she caught a flash of a red suit, curly hair, a ski mask—and then the lights went out and strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into the closet and rendering her unable to move. 

“Who _are_ you?”

“Hello Adrienne.” He spoke in a thick German accent that bordered on being overly-done. Nonetheless, Adie knew that voice. She heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes.

“Billie Joe, I was going to surprise you! I thought there was nothing you liked better than cheesy horror movies. Now let go of me.” 

He didn’t, and instead said, “I can think of one thing I like better.” One of his hands slid down from Adie’s waist, over her hip, onto her thigh. She shivered. “You.”

“Billie, what about Mike and Tré? Your, you know, _boyfriends_? Couldn’t you screw around with their heads instead? I’m kind of busy.” This really was very childish. She _knew_ he was Billie, and he could drop the silly accent and the whole mysterious thing. She did stop to wonder, though, how he’d orchestrated turning off all the lights. A switchboard, maybe? But since when did her little high school dropout know how to wire a switchboard? Billie interrupted her thoughts.

“I love Mike and Tré, but sometimes I miss the old days. Don’t you? Don’t you miss… this?” She felt Billie’s hand move up her thigh, brush between her legs briefly. He was wearing gloves, and it was a strange feeling but one she could certainly get used to. Then he tightened his grip on her and she sighed again.

“I don’t think so, Billie Joe. I think you’ve been misbehaving and I think I’m going to treat you accordingly,” she said sternly, evil plans already filling her head. She was going to punish him, all right. 

She attempted to stomp on his foot, but he sprung back a little and her foot struck the switch that Billie had used, turning all the lights back on. She looked up at him, eyebrows knotting. There was something different about him, and it wasn’t just the smile on his face like he’d just done something naughty. 

“You dyed your hair. And you’re wearing _eyeliner_.”

Billie grinned. And what more could she say to that? He looked _good_ in eyeliner.

Somehow there was something else different though. He looked older somehow—she wasn’t sure how he’d done it. She shifted in his arms so she could get a better look, and studied his face carefully.

“What, what is it?” he said, still in that accent. She decided she could get used to that, too—his rough inflection would have made her melt in his arms, had she been someone with any less self-control. 

Adie, however, wasn’t seduced so easily. 

“Why are you staring, Adrienne? Tell me at once.” His eyes narrowed. It was quite perturbing, really, the way he was being so controlling. He’d always liked _her_ in power before.

“You—you look strange…” She shook her head. “It’s just the makeup, I’m sure. But I told you I wasn’t going to let this slide,” she chided, shaking a finger at him. Then she slipped out of his grasp and was off before he could complain. She rummaged around in the bedroom closet—she couldn’t find Billie’s “rock collection” but that would be all right because there was a coil of rope which she’d planned to use for Halloween decorations. Yes, that would be perfect. And she’d get that ridiculous ski mask off Billie and he would learn once and for all that you don’t mess with Adie Nesser.

She walked back into the room.   Billie was sitting patiently on the chair Adie had been standing on earlier, his legs splayed. The image of debauchery. And as she advanced toward him, watching his lips twist into a smirk, she became painfully aware of something she cursed herself for not noticing earlier.

“You’re not Billie Joe.”

He closed his eyes, pretty eyelashes crosshatching his cheeks. 

“Who are you?” she demanded, stretching the rope out between her hands.

“I’m the darkest corner of your mind. I’m your worst nightmare and your favorite private fantasy. I’m the past. I’m the future. I’m forever.” He grinned. “I’m a Spider from Mars, baby.”

“And do I know you?”

“Maybe not, but I think you might like to.” He sprung up from the chair like a jumping spider, forcing his mouth around hers before she could make a move. He tasted vaguely of ashes and wine. For a moment Adie let herself sink into the kiss. 

Then she pulled back and stepped forward, hands on his shoulders, until he was leaning backwards into the chair, waving his arms and cursing at her. She knotted the rope behind him, watched in amusement as it dug into his wrists and he spat a stream of curses again.

“Now tell me, Mr. Spider from Mars—”

“Fink.”

Fink?  _Fink?_   _Wilhelm_ Fink? The very ‘Wilhelm Fink’ who’d written drunkenly scrawled letters to government officials?  Whose name was printed across _a certain someone_ ’s fake ID?  But—there was no way. This man was not Billie Joe Armstrong. Billie Joe was twenty-three, and this man was visibly older than that. Billie Joe might wear makeup for Halloween, but there was no way he could rig a switchboard (as she’d previously noted) and there was no way he could have stashed this elaborate a costume in one of the Basement’s closets.

“I see your confusion, Adrienne,” said Fink, but his suave confidence seemed to be faltering as Adie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward him again. “In a way I am who you think I am.  But in another way I’m not.  Not at all.” His eyes glinted with his last three words.

“Well I’ll tell you one thing. You deceived me. You messed with my head. I’m going to show you how that feels from the other end.” She spoke the last four words with deliberate diction. “Literally.”

Fink’s eyes widened in realization. 

“Now don’t you worry, _Fink_.” She liked the way that name sounded on her tongue. It almost required resent, spite to get it out. “I won’t hurt you. That is to say, I won’t hurt you bad enough to prevent this happening again if you lay a _single finger—_ ” She laid a single finger of her own on his top button, undoing it with a well-placed flick. Hands tied behind his back, Fink couldn't protest. “…on what doesn’t belong to you.” Then with deft movements, she unbuttoned the rest of his coat. His eyes stayed wide and desperate and his breaths came faster as she yanked the coat off of his shoulders. She could even feel his little shudder as she ran a finger down his chest, feeling the friction of the black t-shirt fabric against her skin.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” he said, his tone quavering, the accent still present but not quite as overly-done. 

“What’s the problem, Fink? Too used to being the winner all the time?”

“I—just get off me. I’ll leave.” He sounded _scared_ , and she drew back for a moment. Billie Joe had never had that note of desperation in his voice, had never seemed so terrified. She knew about his panic disorder and she knew to avoid the things that set him off. But she didn’t know this Fink. And if it was true that in some strange, twisted way, he was Billie Joe…maybe submission was what set _him_ off.

“Do you promise to be good, Fink?” His eyes darkened.

“That would be a promise I’d have to break.”

“Well tell me this—why did you come here?” When he shook his head in response, she stepped around to the back of the chair, pushing it away from the wall and pulling the rope tighter around him. 

“Doesn’t,” he gasped as he doubled over, “matter.”  A bead of sweat traced its way down the pale exposed flesh of his neck from within those black curls. She leaned over, still tightening Fink’s bindings, and pressed her lips to his neck. His breathing sped up again, and she slowly took her free hand down and slid the t-shirt up his now damp chest. Then she decided to take the liberty of moving her hand lower, lower still and when she found his groin, she rubbed the heel of her hand against it until she could tell for certain—he was enjoying this.

“Does it matter now?” she whispered, lips curling into a wicked smile. She was enjoying it too.

“Billie,” he managed between panting breaths. “For…Billie.”

“For Billie? What do you want with him?” She raised her voice a little, pressing herself up against the back of the chair and practically yelling in his ear.

“Calm down, calm down, calm down,” he breathed, though it was obviously he who needed to calm down, “I just wanted to give him a little surprise for Halloween.” Adie narrowed her eyes.

“What _kind_ of surprise?”

“Look, look, I got the wrong place; I went the wrong way, the wrong circuit, misjudged a digit. I’m supposed to be…” She clenched her hand around his erection and he let loose a ragged moan. “I’m supposed to be in ten years later. I was…going to leave. He…he _knows_ me ten years later.” A hand clench again, and this time he gritted his teeth as if determined not to show her how he felt. 

“What about me, Fink? Couldn’t you have left me alone?” She ran her tongue across his neck, his sweat bitter and sharp in her mouth. She felt him shiver again.

“You were…all alone—I thought vulnerable— _we_ were all alone—we could fill this place with such pretty, such pretty noises.” He laughed nervously. One last squeeze to his cock, then she raked her fingernails up his bare chest, leaving white streaks that quickly reddened.

“And we will,” she said, kissing his neck again, “Won’t we, Fink?”

“What are you doing with m—ee!” His last word turned into a yelp as she loosened the rope enough to make Fink topple forward, and then kissed him again. 

“But if I tell you, won’t that ruin the surprise?” She was starting to like the things that happened when she kissed him. For one thing, it felt like kissing Billie. For another thing, she could feel in his shivers the way he was holding back the feelings she’d most certainly inspired. So she kissed him again. And again.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice more calm than before. Resigned, even.

“I’m going to fuck you senseless.”

She watched his face twitch. He seemed to be trying to pick an emotion, seemed to be feeling a myriad at the same time. Adie, on the other hand, was quite certain about the emotions she felt. Desire? Empowerment? Impatience? No-holds-barred arousal? E—all of the above.

“You…can’t do that,” said Fink, apparently deciding on giving her a blank stare.

“I can do anything I want,” she said, stepping around to the other side of the chair, and leaned over him with eyes lowered to grasp the knots of the rope. “Fink, if I untie you, will you run away?” Slowly he shook his head. “I want a promise,” she insisted. She pressed her hips into his and shifted. The friction made Fink’s hips buck up against hers.

“You can’t do that either!” Fink said, this time sounding panicked.

“Of course I can. I’ll let you see for yourself if you promise you won’t run away.” 

“I…won’t.” He looked at the floor. Adie grinned. She’d won. With quick fingers she undid the bonds, letting the rope fall loose onto the carpet. Fink stiffened and sat up straight in the chair, but his arms still hung at the sides, swinging back and forth. She lifted his hands and placed them over her pants zipper.

“Well here you are.”

She felt his hands tremble as they undid the zipper. She breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled the pants down around her ankles.  A sharp intake of breath came from Fink’s direction.

“You—you didn’t tell me you had a strap-on,” said Fink.

“You didn’t tell me you weren’t Billie Joe. It’s fair. Now—ut!” She clicked her tongue. “Don’t touch!” Back around to the back of the chair she went, and with a loud smack to the back of his head she brought Fink to his knees on the floor in front of the chair. “Should I give him the privilege…?” she pondered aloud, and then, deciding, what the hell—it was Halloween and she was going to have herself some fun—she pulled her shirt over her head. For a moment she stood there in her bra, horns, and a red pointy tail, and then she smirked at Fink. “This won’t hurt a tiny bit.”

“It won’t?” The plea was almost childish.

“No…” Adie shook her head, sighing as if it were obvious. “It will hurt a lot.” She lowered herself to the floor, pressed Fink into the rug and laid on top of him, stroking his dark curls absentmindedly as she unbuttoned his pants and pulled them to his ankles. “You’re so pretty,” she whispered in his ear, taking in the scent of his sweat mingled with smoke and alcohol. “I’m going to have fun with you.”   

He’d misbehaved. He’s crossed so many lines that she wasn’t going to go easy on him. There was no preparation involved, just a couple of well-placed shoves of hips and she was deep inside him. Underneath her Fink moaned and writhed, one hand clenching and unclenching and the other pressed against the carpet, fingers digging into the fabric. 

A long whine escaped Fink, and Adie knew she must have found that spot inside him. Funny. He was just like Billie Joe in so many ways. She thrust forward again.

“No. Dr. Svengali. No.”

_What did he just say?_

“Adrienne. Adrienne,” she demanded.

“Adrienne…” And then his eyes shut, and his body spasmed against her. Just imagining what he was feeling was enough, and like a flame lit on a fuse, her orgasm burned throughout her body, sending off sparks that popped between them. Adie wrapped her trembling fingers around Fink’s fist. He growled through his teeth at her briefly, but became quiet as they lay there.

Silence filled the Basement.

Adie stood up, her tail brushing against Fink’s identical one. Two devils. 

Fink broke the silence: “That thing I said. Before.”

“What thing?”

“When—I called you someone else’s name. Don’t—don’t you dare tell anyone.” It seemed an easy enough request to fulfill, but the devil in her disagreed.

 “Make me a deal, Fink.”

Fink scrambled up from the floor, finding his clothes and gathering them up. Before bringing himself to his feet, he hesitated.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean up. Just make me a deal.” He bowed his head.

“Anything.” She considered for a moment how to phrase her request, and decided to go with utterly blunt.

“I get off to men having sex with each other,” she said, cocking her head to the side.

“And…?”

“I want you to complete your original mission. Go ahead. Find Billie Joe in the future. Do to him what I just did to you. Make this a night to remember. You have plenty of time—the sun’s not even setting yet. And then come back tomorrow and tell me _everything_. I’ll be waiting.”

Fink, who had been dressing as she spoke, buttoned the last button of his coat. He gave her a sharp nod and then traipsed back into the closet. He blew her a kiss and, with a last swing of his tail, disappeared.

 


End file.
